Page 104 of Friendzone Hockey
I’m mindlessly watching TV. Don’t even know what this show is that I’m watching. Watching is a loosely used term. I’m only looking at the screen, thinking about all the stuff Coach did for us. He had some of the best advice in the league. I remember his smile when he was proud of us, and even the way his forehead wrinkled when he was pissed at us. The man subsidized gear for little league teams in the lower mainland.
A chair scratches the surface of the linoleum and then a warm body presses against me.
“Please don’t tell me to go away,” Dash begs. “I know I’m a fucking selfish prick, but I need you.”
He said that the other night. No, he said more than that. He can’t function without me. Another troublesome thought I haven’t had time to process, pick apart, make decisions on. But my brain’s just not in the fucking building right now. I do the thing I wanna do instead of the thing I should do.
I grab Dash like he’s mine, molding him to my body.Ahhhh.Sweet relief from at least one of the many persistent agonies that ail me. Wanting Dash and not being able to have him is a constant anguish I live with. He clings to me like a koala, and we breathe in sync. This. This is the fucking life.
“I need you, too,” I admit. And maybe … maybe I don’t function right without him. It’s a truth that rips through me. Wrenches open the core of me. Somewhere along the way, I came to need Dash more than air. Is it so wrong if he needs me too?
There’s nothing he needs to say, nothing he needs to do. His energy alone sews together the broken bits within me.
“Oh, thank god,” he breathes. “I thought I fucked things up the other night. I thought I undid years of convincing you that I’m fine.”
Convincing me? My heart rate speeds to the standard level of panic it does for any and all things Dash.
“Dash.”
“Fuck. That came out bad.” He exhales, fluffing the longer locks of his hair upward. “You know I’m not good with words. I didn’t mean that like it sounded. Iamfine. I am, Stace. But you don’t believe that I am, so I’m forever trying to convince you.”
“You shouldn’t have to convince me of anything.”
“I know. If I were fine, I’m sure you’d see it, right? But I think it’s just me not knowing how to act right.”
Is this what I’m doing to him? Making him think he doesn’t know how to act right?
“What I mean is, it’s not fair that you feel like you have to convince me. I’ll do better, Dashie.”
He huffs. “This isn’t what I wanted either. I want to be here for you today, the conversation wasn’t supposed to be about me again. Fuck. I’m such a?—”
I shove my hand into his hair, hard. Rough. Aggressive. Running on instinct instead of conscious thought. A soft cry falls from his lips and my heart beats a predatory rhythm. Fuck, I wanna eat him.
“I know what you came over here for. You wanted to soothe my broken heart. Mission a-fucking-ccomplished. You don’t need to say anything. You being here does that. Okay?”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him—no demand—that he never say whatever it was he was gonna say about himself. It was gonna be bad. But I think my hand is saying that for me. I release him.
Dash moans.
It’s involuntary. Soft. Barely there. But it’s still a goddamn moan, and it goes straight to my dick.
Dash likes rough. He’s said it. Casey’s said it. I’m fuckingseeingit.
Am I prepared to do that with him after everything?
Yes.
No.
Yes. Yes. Yes.
Fuck.
Someone needs to take me as far away from Dash as possible. But even that’s never gonna happen. I won’t allow it.
His cheeks heat and he buries his face into my chest. His arms tighten around my torso.
“I’m not gonna send you away. Not for any reason, sweetheart.”
